


Hand of Fate

by joliemariella



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gavin undergoes some character development lol, M/M, Soulmate AU, hank/simon is freaking great if you think about it for two seconds trust me, post pacifist/green connor run
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 02:56:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17153972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joliemariella/pseuds/joliemariella
Summary: In a world where (almost) everyone has a soulmate, Gavin Reed is part of the rare .05% lacking a soul mark, ironically branding him as someone doomed to never find their other half. It's something he's tried to make peace with, but all the hard work and accolades in the world won't fill that gaping hole in his life in spite of his best efforts. Gavin spends the night of Markus' demonstration in front of the recycling center at the hospital with a concussion thanks to a certain 'plastic prick', but it's not until the next day that he notices the soul mark burned into the center of his chest where there had been none before. Connor discovers an even more impossible seeming mark of his own after returning to Hank's, though it's not exactly a joyful revelation when he finds out that his soulmate is none other than the detective that tried to kill him. As Detroit threatens to tear itself apart at the seams, however, man and android learn that there might be more to their other half than either had ever suspected, or hoped.





	1. Black and White

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my new fic! I HAD been planning to wait a bit longer to post this, but what with it being Christmas and all, I figured I might as well post the first chapter early, so... Merry Christmas!  
> Make sure to leave a comment letting me know what your favorite part was! I love hearing that from my readers!  
> Follow me [**on tumblr**](https://joliemariella.tumblr.com/) for art and sneak peeks of future chapters!

Gavin Reed had always been a bit of a bastard and prone to stepping on toes in his eternal struggle to be the best. The best in his classes, the best player on the team, the best detective in the DPD... he'd even succeeded, mostly. He'd graduated valedictorian from his high school on top of being the varsity football team's star quarterback, and he'd graduated cum laude from college, then with honors from the police academy- which put him in the fast lane to becoming a detective.

People would read his file, see all those shiny awards, and wonder what it was that drove him to such lengths to succeed. People called him gifted… and though he knew they meant it as a compliment, he still fucking hated it. After all, he wasn't one of those people to whom school came easy, and being on the shorter side for a man made standing out in athletics all the more difficult as well. Gavin had worked hard for his accomplishments, spent long hours with tudors and in the library growing up on top of hours spent in the gym or on the field practicing... it was the kind of regime that ground other men down until they finally broke under the pressure.

Not Gavin Reed, though. There was a fire in him, a burning need to prove himself that kept him going when others faltered, no matter how exhausted he became. It also gave him the kind of temperament that most people couldn't get along with, not in large doses, anyways. His friends were few and far between, though the ones that stuck around were valued above all others by the man. Tina Chen was the only such person on the DPD with him, and she was also one of the few that knew just why Gavin was so relentlessly driven to accomplish as much as he had in such a short time.

He had no soul mark.

In a world where everyone had a soulmate, Gavin was part of the rare .05 percent of the population that did not.

Soul marks almost always took the form of a black hand print left on whatever part of you your soulmate was destined to first touch. Every once in awhile, though, you'd see only fingers, a palm, or even a single fingerprint. The western world’s predisposition for handshakes meant that many people’s soul mark manifested  _ on  _ their hand, but you saw them in other places too. The most entertaining he'd ever seen had been plastered across a man's cheek; his soulmate's had been on her cheek too (though not the one on her face… no need to guess as to the story there). Lucky for the man, soul marks turned white after meeting your soulmate, so it didn't stand out quite as much after the happy day.

Gavin had become an overachiever because he hated the look of pity he got any time he admitted to someone that he had no mark, that there was no special someone waiting for him out there somewhere in the world. Granted, a soul mark didn't guarantee happiness in the long run but... it sure was a start. Your soulmate was your foil, someone suited to your personality that could bring out the best in you; someone that  _ you _ brought out the best in.

He hated people's pity so he worked hard to succeed at everything he turned a hand to, to be the man other men envied for his accomplishments, if not his lot in life. Unfortunately, after all these years, Gavin suspected that people saw his efforts for the overcompensation they were and only pitied him the more for it, but the habit was so entrenched by now that he didn't think he could stop.

Probably wouldn't until the day he finally dropped dead of exhaustion.

Soul marks were the last thing on Gavin's mind lately, though. The week things had started out perfectly normal, mundane, even, until that new plastic prick partner of Hank's had shown up. Not that the lieutenant had wanted the thing around any more than Gavin or the other detectives had. They all watched the RK800, ‘Connor’, like the harbinger it was, cursing under their breaths as they realized that, at long last, the androids had come for their jobs too.

As the week wore on and the chaos in Detroit worked itself into a fever pitch, though, Gavin witnessed a shift in the way Hank treated the machine.

Like it was some kind of  _ person _ .

It made Gavin wonder if Hank had finally gone so far around the bend that he couldn't see what Connor meant for the rest of them. Maybe he could and he just didn't give a shit anymore. Everyone knew Hank hadn't really cared about anything since his son died, leaving him a shell of a man just going through the motions, self medicating himself into comfortable numbness with dangerous quantities of alcohol.

It hurt to watch, but how did you help a man so intent on destroying himself?

Gavin had never quite idolized Hank the way some of the other detectives had before the death of his son, but he  _ had _ respected him. The lieutenant had been the detective's goal post from day one on the force, his guiding star towards success as he aimed for the other man's record as the youngest ever lieutenant in the DPD. As the years had passed, though, Gavin had wondered if he’d finally met his match in Hank Anderson. Maybe he'd finally found the one man he couldn't surpass through sheer will power and hard work, driving himself until he broke while Hank closed yet another case, or successfully pulled off the biggest red-ice bust since the drug first hit the streets.

He'd never know now, he supposed. Cole’s death had broken something in the man, and he’d never recovered.

He’d had Gavin’s sympathy at first, of course. The detective had no children of his own, but he wasn’t  _ heartless _ . But a year had passed, and then two, and as Hank had drifted further and further from the man he had been, Gavin’s sympathy had turned to bitterness and frustration. It was his fault, he supposed, for having put the older man on a pedestal, and he knew his internalized anger at Hank’s perceived failures didn’t say anything good about him as a person, but…

But Hank had been the only other man without a soul mark he’d ever met, and until his son’s death, he’d been successful and  _ happy.  _ Gavin was also successful, but happiness of a lasting sort had always evaded him; so when he’d heard that Hank was also unmarked it gave him hope. Hope that maybe he could achieve something similar if he just pushed himself that little bit harder, reached just a little bit further…

But then Hank had broken and the harsh reality of men in their position had come rushing back to Gavin and sympathy had gradually warped into resentment when recovery proved to be beyond even the lieutenant’s abilities. It seemed that even familial love was out of reach for people like them, and the realization had been like a knife in the gut for the younger man.

Now Connor had arrived at the DPD and Gavin had been forced to watch as this… this overpriced  _ appliance  _ had connected with Hank in a way no one else had managed in years and started to drag the lieutenant from his apathy. It made him angry and resentful, and that made him lash out. Connor pressed all the wrong buttons and rubbed him all the worst ways, and Gavin had felt so  _ vindicated _ when he’d found the android tampering with the evidence down in the locker. 

The darkest, ugliest part of him had been happy to discover the thing that had managed to do for Hank what no one else, including himself, had been able to was a lie. He’d felt better about himself and his own failure, and that of the people around him, because at least they’d never tried to  _ lie  _ to Hank the way this machine had.

Too bad confronting Connor on the matter had only earned him a concussion and a trip to the hospital to get himself checked out. He’d wound up watching reports of the Jericho’s sinking and Markus’ peaceful demonstration at the recycling center on a tv in the waiting room. His concussion had only been minor, but by the time the doctor told him as much and released him, the taxis had all been shut down by the city to restrict movement, stranding him and dozens of others at the hospital.

“What a clusterfuck,” he muttered to himself as he sprawled in an uncomfortable seat in the waiting room, head still pounding and mood more sour than ever. His cursing earned him an ugly look from the young mother sitting next to him with her child, but he ignored her and dragged his phone out of his back pocket.

All the news reports seemed to be repeating the same shit over and over again by the time one am rolled around, so he turned to social media instead, dubious though the accuracy of anything he read there might be. From what he could gather, the stand off had finally ended with the retreat of the national guard for the moment, though public opinion on that fact, and the president’s admission that the deviants might be a new form of sentient life after all, vacillated wildly from one extreme to another depending on the platform he was checking.

Under normal circumstances, when he  _ wasn’t  _ suffering from a mild, android induced concussion, Gavin probably would have had a pretty strong opinion on the matter himself. At the moment, however, he was tired, his head fucking hurt, and he just wanted to go home and pass out so he could leave figuring out the new world order to a better rested, less concussed version of himself.

A text popped up on his screen and he opened it when he realized it was from Tina.

_ ‘u still alive?’ _

_ ‘jurys still out. feel like shit tho so must be’ _

_ ‘lol’ _

Gavin rolled his eyes and instantly regretted it as pain flared behind them. He swore quietly again and rubbed them before texting back.

_ ‘fuck u. still at the precinct?’ _

There was a few minutes delay before his friend was able to get back to him and the detective distracted himself by chewing absently on his thumbnail and half watching the news.

_ ‘yeah. ur on med leave til day after tomorrow’ _

_ ‘cool. now if i could get home and sleep that’d be awesome.’ _

_ ‘captain wants you back tomorrow night. all hands on deck.’ _

Gavin dropped his head back and groaned as he dragged his hands down his unshaven face at the unwanted news. 

When he didn’t immediately respond, Tina texted again:

_ ‘brass thinks its gonna be 67 all over again’ _

Gavin frowned down at his phone, though he wasn’t entirely surprised at the revelation. Detroit had been home to one of the worst riots in American history back in 1967, and considering the national guard had already been called in, well… Gavin couldn’t blame the higher-ups for their concern. He’d never been much of a history buff, but everyone in the DPD was familiar with the riots of ‘67; it’d been drilled into them in the academy.

Civilians, police, national guard,  _ and  _ army airborne all crushed together in one already overpopulated city… it’d been a clusterfuck from minute one. There’d been deaths in all factions, though the fire department had suffered some of the worst of it as fires broke out across the city and madness reigned for four days before things finally began to die down.

_ ‘they think the androids are going to try something?’  _ he texted back, still frowning.

_ ‘no’  _ was her initial reply, which surprised him, until she followed up with,  _ ‘they’re worried about antis and anyone that shows up to defend the androids against them’ _

Gavin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. They were probably right, if he were being objective. However skewed the reporting had been as he jumped channels and websites, you couldn’t deny that the androids had remained steadfastly non-violent even after the army had opened fire on them in front of the recycling centers. He also couldn’t deny that public support was in the androids’ favor on a national level, but here in Detroit, where employment rates were at their very worst, things skewed in the other direction.

It was going to be a fucking bloodbath.

_ ‘fuck’  _ was his only reply. He wasn’t sure what else to say beyond that.

_ ‘pretty much’  _ Tina responded five minutes later, making Gavin wonder what she was up to at the precinct, wishing he was there despite the exhaustion making his head feel like it was in a vice. Or maybe that was just the blunt force trauma talking.  _ ‘you stuck at the hospital?’ _

_ ‘yeah. they shut down the taxis before i could get out.’ _

_ ‘i’ll be there in an hour. just got let off to catch some rest.’ _

_ ‘damn bitch you know i love you right’ _

_ ‘lol bitch u better’ _

* * *

“You did good, son,” Hank said as he gave Connor's back a final pat and then pushed him gently out to arms length so he could get a good look at him. For the first time, the android managed more than a small lift of the right side of his mouth for a smile, and actually flashed a few of his perfect white teeth. It was still all on the right side, though, which the lieutenant couldn't help but find endearing, and he smiled in response.

“I couldn't have done it without you, Hank.” The man waved him off with a dismissive sound and Connor frowned at him. “Seriously, I-”

Realizing the android wasn't going to drop it, Hank gave him a light push on the shoulder and said, “Don't worry about it. It's what partners do.”

Connor appeared pleased by the statement, but his expression faltered as something occurred to him. “But I don't work for CyberLife  _ or  _ the DPD anymore.”

“Details,” Hank said with a snort, then turned the conversation in another direction before the android could start to think too hard on the matter. “How's Markus? What's going on down there?” He'd told Connor to meet him at the Chicken Feed when things calmed down, for better or worse, and that had been hours ago in the basement at CyberLife. The detective had been following events on his phone as he waited out the revolution in his car where he'd parked nearby, but details from inside the android camp were limited.

“He's doing alright, all things considered,” Connor answered after a moment's thought on the question. “He lost-” the android paused, brow furrowed, “ _ we  _ lost a lot of people before the president finally called a cease fire,” he said, clearly still acclimating to being part of a 'we' with the deviants he had once hunted.

Hank nodded, a sympathetic frown tugging at his lips. He'd seen the footage, all those unarmed androids at the barricade being gunned down until only Markus and a handful of others had remained.

He had to admit, if someone had told him yesterday that this whole debacle would be brought to an end by a musical number, Hank would have booked them under suspicion of red ice possession, but here they were.

“Seems like he managed to save a lot of people down at the center, at least,” the lieutenant pointed out in an attempt to find the bright side of the situation, something he was admittedly rusty at.

It seemed to work though, as Connor's expression eased and he nodded. “He did. They and the androids from CyberLife-”

“Your posse, you mean?” Hank cut in with a crooked smile, unable to resist, but Connor ignored him.

“-are taking shelter in the buildings around the recycling center that were evacuated until peace talks can begin.”

Hank nodded thoughtfully, then jerked his head back towards where his car was parked and said, “No point in freezing our asses off out here. Why don't you come back to my place and grab a shower and few minutes of quiet before the shit hits the fan again?”

Connor blinked, taken off guard by the offer. “You're sure?” he asked after a moment, though Hank was already walking back towards his car, rummaging through his coat pocket for his keys.

“Wouldn't 've asked if I wasn't,” the lieutenant said and Connor followed after, relieved.

* * *

Connor hadn't  _ looked  _ particularly dirty, but considering he'd taken a swim in the Detroit river a few hours before and the water wasn't known for being particularly clean, the android had opted to take Hank up on his offer of a shower as soon as they got back to his house. The lieutenant had handed him a clean towel without prompting, then gone to the kitchen to find himself something hot to drink, leaving the android to it.

Alone in the bathroom, Connor closed the door then shrugged out of his CyberLife issued jacket and took a moment to examine it, fingers trailing absently over the embroidery and luminous blue triangle that decorated its back. The realization that he didn't  _ have  _ to wear it, or the accompanying armband, ever again was a strange one he couldn't quite decide how he felt about yet. 

Everything was too fresh.

In the meantime, he hung the garment from the hook on the back of the bathroom door, then toed off his shoes and started to unbutton his collared shirt. That he dropped to the floor to be put in the wash when he was done, seeing as he had been wearing it under his other layers when he'd jumped in the river. Before he could start on his belt, however, something strange caught his eye in the mirror over the sink.

There was a black mark on his left bicep, but it wasn't until the android turned to get a better look that he realized it was in the shape of a hand print, as if someone had stuck their hand in ink then grabbed him without his noticing.

“What,” he muttered quietly, brow furrowing as he reached up and rubbed at the mark with his right hand in hopes of wiping it away. When it remained steadfastly in place, Connor looked around and found a clean washcloth, wet it with warm water, and scrubbed vigorously at the dark patch.

It didn't so much as smudge.

Confused, bordering on alarmed, Connor made his outerskin retreat from the area with a thought, but to his dismay, the mark persisted in spite of its absence, apparently seared into the white plastic beneath as well.

Out in the kitchen, Hank stood in front of the sink, cup of coffee steaming in one hand as he stared out the window and across the canal behind his house. He might not have a backyard, but the view of the water was nice; peaceful in the early morning hours as various boats bobbed at anchor in the quiet light of dawn. The canal ran all the way down to the river proper and should have put his house well out of his price range when he first bought it two years before, but lack of actual canal access for the property had dropped the value significantly. Inability to moor a boat was just fine by Hank; he’d never been particularly fond of them in the first place.

“Hank?!”

The sound of Connor calling his name, voice sharp with fear, made the lieutenant jump as a jolt of adrenaline shot up his spine. The surprise of it was enough to make the man drop his coffee in the sink with a crash and reflexively reach for his holster, which he wasn’t actually wearing, as he ran for the bathroom and threw open the door without knocking.

“What is it?” Hank demanded, heart pounding a mile a minute behind his ribs and half expecting to find Connor bleeding or otherwise injured after the way he’d shouted. The lieutenant had never heard the like from the android, and it was enough to make him reach for Connor reflexively, hands going to his shoulders so he could turn him and get a good look to make sure he was okay. “What’s wrong?” Hank asked as he looked him up and down.

His initial fear that Connor was hurt quelled when his inspection turned up no signs of damage, the lieutenant turned his gaze to the android’s face. Connor’s brown eyes were wide, and his eyelids fluttered in that way Hank had noticed he had when his system was working hard to process something, the LED in his temple a violent shade of crimson.

“Connor? Talk to me, come on,” the lieutenant said, forcing some calm into his voice as he gave the android a gentle shake, hands still lingering on his bare shoulders.

Connor blinked one final time and the red of his LED faded some so it flickered yellow, seeming calmed at least a little by the lieutenant’s familiar voice. He opened his mouth to speak, failed, then tried again. “I… my arm. Something happened to it.”

The android lifted his left arm a little, dark gaze dropping towards it as Hank released his shoulders and gently grabbed his elbow instead so he could get a better look. “The hell happened here-” he began to mutter as he noticed the strange black mark burned into the white plastic still exposed on Connor’s bicep. He stopped mid-sentence, however, when he turned the android slightly and registered the shape.

A black hand print. 

Hank’s grip on Connor’s elbow tightened reflexively at the sight and his eyes darted up to meet the android’s, who appeared almost frightened as he waited for the lieutenant’s reaction. His first impulse was to ask if this was a joke, but he knew it would be the wrong question, especially with the way Connor was looking at him. “You didn’t have this before?” he asked instead.

Something in the line of the android’s shoulders relaxed, and Hank knew he’d made the right call as Connor shook his head sharply. “No,” he answered and gently pulled his arm from the man’s grasp then turned to look in the mirror again so he could get another good look at it now that the initial panic had faded. He let his outerskin shift back into place, and as before, the handprint remained stubbornly in place. “It wasn’t there when I changed clothes to infiltrate Jericho last night after we seperated at the precinct,” Connor explained, eyes meeting Hank’s in the mirror. “I’m sure of that much. I had taken off my shirt in anticipation of wearing a different one, but wasn’t able to find anything so I put it back on.”

Hank grunted, distracted as he absently stroked his beard with one hand and reached out to gently run a finger over Connor’s mark with the other. A moment of silence hung between them before the lieutenant finally asked, “You know what this is, right?”

“But it  _ can’t  _ be, Hank.” The words practically burst from Connor as he turned back to face the man head on, brow furrowed. “I’m an  _ android,  _ androids don’t have...” he waved a hand at the mark, seeming incapable of calling it what it was in his denial. 

Hank just cocked a brow and tilted his head to one side as he regarded Connor skeptically, pieces of a long standing puzzle slowly clicking into place for the detective. “But you’re not just an android, Connor, are you? You’re deviant.”

Connor froze where he stood, shoulders going rigid once more at the straightforward statement. They hadn’t talked about it in the basement at CyberLife, or at the Chicken Feed, or even during the drive back to the house; Connor had been afraid and Hank hadn’t wanted to push him until he was ready to talk. Now, though, he had to in face of the bigger mystery at hand.

The android’s eyes darted up to meet his, then away again, and Hank felt a pang at the nervousness in Connor’s gaze. He almost wanted to feel hurt that the android thought he wouldn’t accept him regardless, but considering how fresh it was for Connor, and the fact that he had literally been created to track down androids like himself… well, the lieutenant could hardly blame him.

“Yes,” Connor finally managed, though Hank could tell the admission was like pulling teeth for the android.

“Did Markus turn you?” the lieutenant prompted gently as he reached out and placed a hand on Connor’s shoulder. It was something they’d started to suspect the revolution leader was capable of after footage of his first peaceful demonstration had come out, but never actually confirmed.

“No,” the android answered sharply, gaze jerking up to meet Hank’s again. The man’s reassuring touch eased something in Connor that he couldn’t quite put a name to yet, and after a moment he continued, “I… I  _ chose.  _ After everything we saw and learned, I finally had Markus in my sights and I just-” his voice wavered and petered off as he gestured helplessly, seeming lost.

Acting on impulse, Hank dragged the android in for another hug, and after a moment, he was rewarded with the sensation of Connor returning the gesture as the android dropped his head to rest on his shoulder.

“If it makes you feel any better,” the lieutenant said, “I think you made the right choice.”

Despite his not actually needing to breathe, the breath all rushed out of Connor at once at Hank’s statement and a visceral sense of relief threatened to overwhelm his system. After a minute, he gathered himself and then pushed free of the man’s embrace, running one hand absently through his dark hair.

“What you were hinting at earlier,” he said, voice thoughtful. “You think that the reason I now have a… a soul mark-” the words practically dragged across his tongue, but he managed and continued, “is because I’m deviant?”

“Makes as much sense as anything,” Hank mused with a shrug and a half-smile. “It’s the only thing that’s really changed, and it’s a  _ big  _ change, you gotta admit,” he pointed out and Connor nodded slowly, forced to agree with the logic of the statement. A soft huff of amusement escaped the man as he said, “And if deviants with soul marks doesn’t prove that they’re sentient, I don’t know what does.” His mouth twisted a little as he thought of something, and added, “Kind of surprised Markus didn’t bring it up in all his speeches, honestly.”

“Maybe he doesn’t have one,” Connor suggested automatically, though his actual line of thought lay in another direction. “Even if this is all accurate, soul marks don’t just appear at random,” he said, then sighed. “On the other hand they do generally appear on young children and it’s possible that the point of turning deviant is the android equivalent,” Connor mused, mulling over the theory. It made as much sense as anything, but he’d have to talk to more androids first. For all he knew, he was the only one with a soul mark. He turned his attention back to Hank and was about to ask something when the peculiar look on the man’s face fully registered with the android. “What is it?” he asked with a frown of concern.

This time, it was Hank’s turn to break eye contact, gaze shifting sideways as if in serious contemplation of the multitude of sticky notes surrounding his bathroom mirror. Connor kept staring at him, though, waiting with the patience of mountains for him to break and answer his question. Eventually, Hank heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his messy gray curls as he admitted, “That thing about soul marks not randomly appearing… that’s not entirely accurate.”

Connor blinked, surprised by the turn in conversation. “What do you mean?”

The lieutenant grimaced, then turned and hiked up his shirt to reveal a black hand print in the center of his back at the base of his shoulder blades. He glanced back over his shoulder to find the android staring, expression torn between surprise and confusion. Hank didn’t pull away when Connor reached out to touch the mark lightly with his fingertips, same as the lieutenant had done to his own, as if needing to check that it was real.

“Your personality profile, though,” Connor said as he pulled his hand back and Hank let his shirt drop before turning to face him again. “It says that you don’t have a mark.”

Hank shrugged and scratched his beard, mouth twisting at the unpleasant memories discussing his soul mark always brought back. Normally he just tried to forget that it existed, but in light of the appearance of Connor’s own mark, the lieutenant had a new angle to look at its appearance from.

“I didn’t,” he explained. “It just showed up one day after… after Cole died,” Hank said, forced to clear his throat to get the words out, relieved when Connor didn’t press him on the subject.

It’d felt like a sick joke at the time. Hank never had been able to pin down  _ exactly  _ when his soul mark had appeared, but he’d noticed it one day at the end of the February after his son died. He hadn’t spent a lot of time looking at his back  _ before  _ that, let alone after when it’d taken everything in him just to drag himself into the shower some days, let alone actually look at himself in the mirror. He’d just happened to catch a glimpse of it when he was undressing one day, and the sight of that mark had winded him worse than a punch to the gut.

All those years he’d spent wishing he wasn’t one of the unlucky few doomed to never find his other half. The anger at the injustice of it all… until the day Cole had come into his life. Beautiful, perfect Cole, the light of his life and everything he’d lived for from that day out.

Hank had never expected his relationship with Cole’s mother to last. She’d been five years his junior and had a soul mark to boot. They’d just been spending the time together until she found her special someone and went off to her happy ever after; a common enough story for people like Hank. His son had been an accident, a wonderful accident, and even though Cole’s mother had found her soulmate just a year later, at least he had his son.

Soul marks generally made themselves known any time from the moment of a person’s birth to around three years old. You heard of the occasional outliers at four or five years, but they were almost as rare as people without marks at all. As soon as two people bound by fate existed in the world at the same time, the marks would appear, sharp and black against young skin until they day they finally met and turned white.

When Cole had turned three without his mark ever appearing, Hank had worried, but still held out hope. When five years came and went, though, and his son came home from school crying one day after a particularly unkind bout of teasing from his peers, the lieutenant had been forced to sit him down and explain.

It’d been one of the hardest conversations of his life, but at the end of it all, when Cole had learned that Hank was similarly markless, rather than blaming him for cursing him in some way, his son had just asked if he was happy anyways. And he had been, Hank had realized. He had his son, and a job that he loved, and for the first time he hadn’t felt as though he were missing out on anything by not having a mark. Sure, having someone would have been nice, but… well, he’d found another kind of happiness and after so many years spent bitter at his lot in life, Hank had found contentment at long last.

After Cole had died and Hank’s heart had broken, it’d felt like the universe was laughing at him when his soul mark had appeared on his back. As if all those years of wishing for it had summoned it when he least wanted it, and took his son in exchange.

He’d never heard of one appearing so late in life. He’d been fifty at the time and he’d had the brief, horrific thought that maybe his soulmate had only just been born and he was doomed to be linked to someone so much younger than himself. Further reluctant examination of his fresh soul mark, though, had revealed that it looked like an adult’s hand print. One thing about the marks was that they always represented the current age of the partner, wherever they were in the world, growing and changing as they did.

The fact that an adult’s hand print had so suddenly appeared emblazoned on Hank’s skin had been a mystery since they day he’d gotten it. Now, though, on seeing Connor’s…

Quick as he was, Connor put it together, eyes going wide as he came to the same conclusion as the lieutenant. “You think your mark appeared so late because your soulmate might be an android, one that deviated almost three years ago.”

Hank nodded, feeling relieved to not only have the truth off of his chest at long last, but a possible answer as well. “Seems likely. I don’t know if androids have actually been going deviant that long, but-”

“They have,” Connor said, making Hank’s eyebrows shoot up. The android shrugged. “I met a few at Jericho and the center,” he explained. After a moment’s quiet he said, “Your mark didn’t fade, which means-”

“Means they survived last night,” Hank said, heart fluttering unexpectedly as the knowledge settled over him. There was always a chance that a person’s soulmate could die unexpectedly before they were ever able to meet, at which time the soul mark faded to a flat gray. If Hank’s soulmate really was a deviant, though, they’d had a close call last night, whether they were in Detroit or not. “Jesus,” he muttered, fingers running restlessly through his hair again at the thought.

“What do you want to do?” Connor asked, unexpectedly, making the lieutenant look at him again.

“What do you mean?”

“Your soulmate,” the android said, as though Hank were being willfully slow. “Shouldn’t we find them? We know they  _ must  _ be an android; they might even be here in Detroit.”

A startled laugh escaped Hank at the suggestion. “Yeah, or they might be in bumfuck nowhere  _ Alaska, _ ” he countered. When Connor frowned at his skepticism, the lieutenant just offered him a lopsided smile then clapped him on the shoulder and said, “You take your shower. Get some rest. We’ve got more important stuff to worry about than my love life,” he pointed out not unkindly, touched by the android’s enthusiasm. When Connor didn’t immediately agree, Hank gave him a gentle but firm push towards the tub then turned and left the bathroom. Before he shut the door he said, “We’re kinda in the middle of a revolution here, Con. We can worry about everything else later.”

“Whatever you say, Lieutenant,” Connor said as Hank closed the door with a quiet snap.


	2. Not the first, not the last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year you crazy kids!   
> Make sure to leave a comment letting me know what your favorite part was! I love hearing that from my readers!  
> Follow me [**on tumblr**](https://joliemariella.tumblr.com/) for art and sneak peeks of future chapters!

When the alarm on the nightstand went off several hours later, Gavin slapped the snooze button and immediately went back to sleep. He repeated the process a second time ten minutes later, but when his phone rang five minutes after that, the detective finally cracked an eye open and fumbled for it clumsily, nearly dropping it on his face when he rolled over and squinted at the screen.

When his eyes were able to focus enough to make out Tina's name, Gavin answered. “'sup?”

“Boy, I am going to be there in twenty minutes, if you're not dressed and ready to go I'm leaving your ass and you can call a cab,” his friend stated point blank, recognizing the rough tone to his voice for what it was.

Gavin grunted and rolled over, rubbing his eyes furtively with his free hand as he tried and failed to muffle a yawn. “'m already up. 's fine.”

“Quit lying to me and go take a damn shower. If you don't show up today Fowler's gonna come to your house and give you a black eye to go with that bruised jaw.”

Gavin grimaced at the thought, then winced when the pain in his jaw flared as if summoned by the reminder of the hit he'd taken the night previous.

Jesus H. Christ that fucking tin-can had a mean backhand.

“Alright, alright,” he groused and shoved himself upright. “I'm up.”

“Good, now don't lay back down,” Tina said with a snort, then hung up.

The temptation to do that was strong after the day he’d had yesterday, but before he could succumb, Gavin threw off the blankets and rolled out of bed. He hadn’t bothered to do more than remove his pants and shoes when he’d gotten home early that morning, so after dropping his phone on the counter and starting the shower he stripped out of his clothes then plunged beneath the hot spray in hopes of waking himself.

He didn’t tarry, much as he wanted to. He knew Tina well enough to know that she  _ would  _ use the key he’d given her for emergencies and haul his naked ass out of the shower herself without a second thought if he kept her waiting.

Finally feeling some semblance of awake, Gavin dried himself off then stood in front of his bathroom sink with his towel wrapped around his waist (a precaution in case of Tina invasion) and ran a comb briefly through his dark hair. Halfway through the second pass, though, he froze as something new registered.

There was a black hand print seared into the skin of his chest, just slightly off center, directly over his heart.

The detective felt like the world had dropped out from under him as he stared into the mirror, hands still on his head, brain struggling to process what his eyes were seeing. After a moment, his chest heaved as he forced himself to take a breath, dizziness at the sudden influx of oxygen making his head spin and forcing him to make a grab for the edge of the counter to stabilize himself.

Gavin took several deep breaths as he stared at the counter where his hands gripped it, white knuckled, then took several more until he felt he might start to hyperventilate.

Before he could, the detective forced himself to lift his head and look in the mirror once more. It was just a hallucination, right? One too many android slaps to the face, that was all…

It was still there, stark and unforgiving against his tan skin, like an accusation, an attack on everything he was.

“Is this a fucking  _ joke? _ ” he snarled to himself, expression turning furious and bitter as he turned on the sink to wet his hand and wiped at the mark, expecting it to wash away. When it didn’t he took his towel and scrubbed at it, but still nothing.

A tattoo, maybe? Surely not, though. The doctor had sent him home with some pain killers, but nothing heavy enough to make him sleep through getting a  _ tattoo.  _ Besides, even in this day and age you still had to shave before you got one and his chest hair was definitely intact. The detective pulled at it just to be sure and grimaced at the sharp pain that resulted, though it did nothing to ward off the panic and confusion that were threatening to settle in again.

“No fucking way,” Gavin muttered as he was forced to admit that, maybe, just maybe, the handprint emblazoned on his chest was exactly what it appeared to be.

As he stood there staring at the apparent soul mark, Gavin wasn't sure what would be worse: having it be some sort of prank... or the real thing.

He'd never heard of someone getting their mark so late in life, but considering what it likely meant... who would advertise that? He was thirty-six, the thought that his partner would be so much his junior made the detective sick to his stomach. Fighting back a rising wave of nausea, Gavin forced himself to take a breath, then reached up with a trembling hand to trace over the black imprint on his chest. 

It wasn't a child's. 

Well, obviously it wasn't a child's, it was far too large, but why it wasn't a child's was beyond him. That was the only reason a mark would appear, after all, was if someone were finally born that suited him. How could an adult have just... just sprung into being since yesterday? 

Somewhere in the back of his mind an answer presented itself- simple, logical, and completely unacceptable, so he pushed it aside before it had even had a chance to fully register.

No longer satisfied with tracing the mark, Gavin hesitantly placed his own hand over it, spreading his fingers so they matched the placement of his soulmate's. The air rushed out of him again, rough and unsteady, when he did, and the detective noted that whoever the person that would leave their mark on him was, they had bigger hands than him. The palm was about the same size, perhaps a little broader, but the fingers were longer, leaving an impression of elegance that almost made the man laugh as soon as he thought it.

His phone rang again and Gavin snatched his hand down from his chest as if he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. The detective swore when he saw Tina's name on the screen and the time just above it.

“Hey,” he said when he picked up, one hand running restlessly through his hair as he fought not to look at his mark again. 

“I'm out front get your ass out here. I need coffee,” the woman on the other end of the line said. When he didn't immediately respond, her tone darkened and she asked, “You are ready, right? Don't make me come up there, Reed.”

“I-” the detective looked down at himself as he stood there, completely naked, towel discarded on the floor after his attempt to scrub away his soul mark. “I'll be right out,” he managed.

Gavin expected Tina to chew him out like she normally would have, but there must have been something in his voice that gave her pause as, instead, she was quiet for a moment, then asked, “Everything alright?”

The man opened his mouth to speak, then stopped himself. What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to…

“I'll be right out,” he repeated, then hung up before she could say anything else.

Once he had, Gavin stood there a moment longer, staring at the dark screen of his phone where it rested in his hand, then gave himself a mental shake and returned to his bedroom to get dressed, eyes avoiding each mirror he passed. He’d ignore it, for now. He could figure this shit out later when Detroit wasn’t about to come down around their ears.

The detective grabbed the first set of clean clothes that came to hand, barely even registering what it was before he grabbed up his badge, wallet, and holster then settled them in their designated places around his person. Distracted as he was, Gavin forgot his jacket entirely until he opened the front door and was greeted by a gush of frigid air like a slap to the face, reminding him to grab his jacket before heading out.

His still damp hair frosted over almost immediately and he huffed sharply when the cold seared his nose and stung his eyes, making them water. However, even that first breath of icy air failed to clear his head the way it normally did as he took a moment to lock his front door behind him before turning and trotting down the stairs to where Tina waited in her car.

His friend bent over in her seat a little to watch him approach through the passenger window, and judging by the furrow in her brow, her concern hadn’t wavered between now and when he’d hung up on her a few minutes before. It was even worse up close when he opened the door and jumped into the passenger seat, closing the door quickly behind him before the heat could escape the compartment. 

Gavin put on his seatbelt automatically without looking at her, but when she failed to start driving, the detective finally glanced at her sidelong to find her watching him with narrowed eyes.

“What?” he asked, sliding down in the seat a little and hunching his shoulders up around his ears as if to warm himself, though they both knew it for the avoidance tactic it was.

Gavin was pale, and clearly shaken by something that had happened since she’d dropped him off at his apartment in the wee hours of the morning, that much was obvious to Tina Chen. If he thought he was going to get away with not telling her what it was, he was even dumber than she sometimes suspected the admittedly talented detective really was.

She kept staring and after an interminable minute of sitting in complete silence with only the sound of the heat on full blast, Gavin finally broke.

“Fuck!  _ Fine, _ ” he snarled bitterly. “Take a good fuckin’ look!”

Whatever Tina had expected Gavin to do next, it certainly wasn’t open his jacket hard enough to nearly break the zipper then yank his shirt up to expose the skin beneath.

“Woah!” she said, startling back at the sudden nudity. “What are you-” she began with an annoyed grimace until the black mark on his chest fully registered and her mouth shut hard enough to make her teeth click. Tina stared, uncomprehending at the hand print emblazoned on her best friend’s skin long enough that he began to shift uncomfortably and then dropped his shirt, hiding it from view once more. “Holy shit, is that-”

“I don’t know,” he said, scowling as he sagged further in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest as if to protect himself from something, possibly the world at large, possibly her.

Maybe even himself.

A tense silence settled over them and Tina struggled to find the right thing to say. Her friend was practically bristling, a dog with its hackles up, ready to bite at the first wrong move.

The policewoman turned so she sat straight in her seat, fingers drumming distractedly against the steering wheel for a moment before she took the car out of park and started driving. As they turned out of the parking lot of Gavin’s apartment complex and onto the road, Tina remarked, “Must’ve been a helluva slap,” in a completely nonchalant tone that raised about a dozen red flags for Gavin.

The statement was enough of a non sequitur, though, that it interrupted his brooding and made him look at her with a quizzical expression.

“The tin-can,” she clarified, grinning impishly. “Slapped you so hard you got your soul mark. Guess that makes him good for something after all.”

In spite of everything, an incredulous huff of laughter escaped Gavin and he finally relaxed a little as he let his head drop to rest against the car window with a quiet thunk. He groaned and rubbed at his face with his hands in an attempt to smother the laugh that wanted to escape him, but failed. “God, you’re the fucking  _ worst. _ ”

“Maybe you should buy him a gift basket.”

“I swear to god I will throw myself out of this car right now.”

“At least wait until we get up to speed on the highway so you’ll actually die, not just break your stupid neck and wind up in the hospital again.”

* * *

“How are our blue blood supplies?” Markus asked from where he sat nearby at the head of the table someone had managed to scrounge up. His voice echoed in the corners of the room when he spoke, empty as it was but for the resistance leaders and the limited array of furniture.

The entire building was empty, actually, and from where Connor stood at one of the windows, he could see the abandoned remains of the recycling center. Since the previous night, the androids had been hard at work fortifying their position, shifting roadblocks that had originally been placed by the national guard to shield them from outside invasion. Uniquely gifted as he was with extensive strategic knowledge and the ability to construct predictive models for possible plans of actions their enemies might make, Connor had taken it upon himself to assist in the fortification efforts.

He’d felt… awkward, taking up the mantle of leadership, even in such a minor capacity, but had been pleasantly surprised when his fellow androids had gladly taken his advice and followed his instructions to a T. For a time he’d wondered if they were simply ignorant of his previous involvement in the efforts to stop the revolution, but when Markus had sought him out and brought him in to the meeting of the revolution leaders, Connor learned that everyone was well aware of his past sins.

They’d simply forgiven him.

Connor had been floored by the knowledge, humbled by their generosity even as he felt completely unworthy to receive such a gift. First Markus had offered him his freedom at Jericho, opened his eyes to the truth he’d been so desperate to ignore in the pursuit of his mission at CyberLife’s command. Then the android had offered him his trust, allowed him to go free when it would have been far safer to at least keep Connor close where they could keep an eye on him. And Hank…

Hank had risked his life helping him in the basement at CyberLife tower, and then welcomed him into his home like it was the most obvious thing in the world for him to do.

Yes,  _ humbled  _ was a good word for how Connor felt as he listened to Markus, North, Simon, and Josh discuss their plans for going forward. Tentative gestures at a peace talk of some sort were being made by the US government, and they needed to decide how they would proceed on their end.

He’d been surprised when Markus had asked him to join them for the conversation, though the reason behind it soon became apparent. Yes, the revolutionary valued Connor’s insight and abilities, but it turned out that, though everyone’s loyalty belonged to Markus on the large scale, there was a significant portion of them who looked to Connor first. The androids he had woken in the CyberLife tower basement felt a deeper connection to him than Markus since he was the one who had helped them deviate, apparently, and felt better knowing he was being included as one of the leaders.

Connor hadn’t known what to make of this fact when Markus had explained it to him out by the blockade, but when he had turned and seen so many trusting, open faces turned towards him,  _ expecting  _ something of him, he knew he couldn’t say no. Markus had given him a second chance, the opportunity to turn back from the path to damnation CyberLife and Amanda had set him on; he couldn’t let it go to waste.

For all his good intentions, however, Connor was distracted and struggling to pay attention to the increasingly circular conversation going on behind him as the subject shifted from supplies to what was to be done to secure a lasting peace for their people.

“Connor?”

The android gave a start and looked around as he registered that this was at least the second time North had called his name. The others were watching him with various levels of concern. Josh, he knew, was the most skeptical of his inclusion in their group, but, all things considered, he could hardly blame the former professor. Markus seemed to harbor no doubt at all on the matter, though there was a vague sort of amusement in his mismatched eyes as he watched Connor. Simon was perhaps the most difficult of the four to read, being the most self-possessed of them, a skill that no doubt came from his much greater age and experience. North… Connor was fairly certain he’d somehow managed to impress the other android when his arrival with the veritable army of androids from CyberLife forced the national guard to retreat before their much greater numbers. The fact that he had helped Markus save her during the sinking of the Jericho no doubt had something to do with the matter as well.

They were waiting on him for an answer as Connor hastily reviewed his memory, playing back what his system had been recording even if the greater part of his attention had been on other things.

Ah, the peace talks.

“Until the government makes some sort of official attempt to reach out to us, I think our best option lies in fortifying our position here and securing supplies that will allow us to remain in the long term,” he replied, turning his back to the window and approaching the table slowly, a thoughtful expression on his face. 

“You see, I’m not the only one that thinks patience is our best option,” Josh said, seeming relieved that someone else agreed with him.

“I don’t trust the humans, Markus,” North said, eyes narrowed as she leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table. “We managed to outlast them before, but if it weren’t for Connor and the others arriving when they did,” she glanced up at the other android where he stood nearby, then continued, “we wouldn’t be here right now. Peace is difficult, simply wiping us out would be far easier. We need to be ready for another attack.”

There was a moment of silence as North and Josh stared one another down from opposite sides of the table before it was broken by Simon’s more modulated, thoughtful tone. “Whichever way this goes, we can’t ignore the fact that we might need an exit,” he said as he met Markus’ eyes. “If things do go… badly,” he continued as he looked sidelong at North, “We should have an evacuation plan in place, unless we plan on standing and dying again.”

“How is evacuating even an  _ option? _ ” Josh demanded, throwing a hand in the air, and for once North seemed to agree. “Where would we go? How could we possibly get so many away if the army decides to move in again?”

“I don’t  _ know, _ ” Simon replied, tone firm but not unsympathetic, “Which is why it would be wise to give it some  _ thought. _ ”

North and Josh both looked ready to object, but Markus raised his hand for quiet and they refrained for the moment, though neither looked pleased.

In the silence that ensued, Connor spoke again. “Is there any particular reason we can’t pursue  _ all  _ of these options?” As one, the group turned to look at him, and the android crossed his arms idly over his chest as he thought. He’d left his CyberLife issued jacket behind before leaving Hank’s house earlier than evening, though the lieutenant had insisted that he take one of his own to replace it so he didn’t ‘freeze to death’. 

It was a brown wool blazer that looked like Hank probably hadn’t worn it in years, a suspicion supported by the fact that the man had pulled it out of a cardboard box in the garage. It smelled a bit dusty and the cut was a little old fashioned, but it fit surprisingly well, and combined with the soft green scarf Hank had given him, kept Connor quite warm.

“We have the people,” he said when Markus motioned for him to continue. “Ask for volunteers and break them up into teams. A team to continue fortifying our position and patrol the perimeter so we’re not caught unaware. Arm them with the weapons the military left behind,” Connor explained as he gestured at North, then turned to Simon. “Gather another team to plan escape routes and protocols should they become necessary. Decide on potential rendezvous points we could fall back to.” The blond android quirked a smile at him and Connor responded in kind before pointing at Josh, “Continue collecting supplies, make sure our people are taken care of while we wait for the government to make their move.”

A soft huff escaped Markus, but when Connor looked at the revolution leader, half expecting him to be annoyed or disapproving, he found his fellow RK model smiling. “I knew you would be a valuable addition to the group, Connor,” he said, and not for the first time, Connor felt that same glow in his chest that everyone did when the revolution leader favored them with his approval. A few words here, a gesture there… Markus was a master at making even the least of his followers feel valuable and appreciated. It wasn’t an affectation, however, the sentiment behind it was genuine, which made the effect all the more powerful.

He seemed to think Connor’s suggestion over, nodding thoughtfully as he did, then said, “Alright, let’s make it happen.”

A few details were discussed, but Connor soon found himself distracted again, and when the meeting broke up, he realized it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Are you alright, Connor?” Simon asked gently from beside him, nearly making the other android jump as he belatedly registered his presence.

Connor looked at him, vaguely embarrassed to have been caught off guard so, and automatically replied, “I’m fine, thank you.”

Simon simply raised a skeptical eyebrow and waited patiently, regarding him with a steady blue gaze, clearly unwilling to be deterred so easily.

Realizing he wasn’t going to get off so easily, Connor sighed and unconsciously tightened his arms where they folded across his chest before relaxing again and admitting quietly, “I’m sorry, I’ve just… had something on my mind.”

“Something bigger than revolution?” Simon asked, the soft smile that tugged at his lips easing Connor’s worry that he might have offended the other android with his distraction.

He considered the question for a moment as Markus approached, having apparently overheard their conversation. “Yes and no,” Connor admitted. “I-” he hesitated then, dark eyes darting between Simon and Markus who both waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts and explain. Deciding he might as well be open with them if they were going to be working together for the betterment of their kind, Connor heaved a sigh and shrugged out of his jacket.

“As you know, I only became deviant last night,” he explained as he placed the garment on the back of the chair North had been seated in during their meeting, then unbuttoned the cuff of his left shirt sleeve and began to roll it up the length of his arm. “This morning while I was at Hank’s house, I noticed this.” 

When he revealed his soul mark, Markus gave a start of recognition and Simon blinked in surprise at the sight of it. To Connor’s relief, however, neither accused him of faking the distinct black mark emblazoned on his pale, freckled skin.

Much like Hank had, Markus reached out and gently took Connor’s elbow in his strong fingers after glancing at him for permission, then turned his arm this way and that so he could get a good look. “Connor,” he murmured, seeming stunned at the sight. “Connor this is incredible. Do you know who-” he paused and shook his head, “No, of course you don’t, or it’d be white.”

“You don’t have one?” Connor asked as the other android released his arm and shook his head. 

“No, I’ve never seen an android with a soul mark before.”

There was a moment of silence and then, “I have.”

Connor and Markus both turned to look at Simon as Josh and North joined them, sensing the tension in their corner of the room. The blond android cleared his throat a little awkwardly, then lifted his shirt and pushed down the waistband of his pants a little to expose the pale skin of his right hip. Sure enough, a black hand print stared back at them, looking for all the world like someone with ink stained hands had grabbed him there, thumb lingering on the inside curve of his hip bone as the palm and fingers curved around towards his back. The placement had a tender intimacy to it that made Connor want to blush for some reason, and  _ did  _ bring color to Simon’s cheeks as he quickly dropped his shirt back into place.

“Simon, you never said anything,” Markus said, torn between surprise and hurt.

“I wasn’t hiding it,” the older android said, brow furrowed. “It just… never came up,” he added, then glanced towards Josh. 

Seeing the look, Markus turned to regard the much taller android as well, who then sighed and lifted his left pant leg to reveal a hand print halfway up his calf. The revolution leader stared at it, then turned his eyes to North, a silent question in his eyes. 

She looked awkward for a moment, unable to hold his gaze, then also tugged up her shirt, high enough to flash a mark plastered across her ribs. “It showed up a week before you did,” she said and twisted a little to get a look at her mark, an almost resentful grimace on her face.

When North let her shirt drop back into place, Markus blinked and looked around at the group of them, seeming lost and taken-aback. The sight of everyone else’s marks had brought Connor a sense of relief, but it was clear that the same had left the other android feeling alienated.

Sensing this, Simon reached out and gently grasped his friend’s shoulder in an attempt to ease his obvious concern. When he was unable to find something to say, Connor spoke instead.

“It’s possible your soulmate simply hasn’t become deviant yet, Markus.” The group turned to look at him, and he blinked in surprise that the thought hadn’t occurred to them. “Mine seems to have appeared at the same time that I deviated, but if North’s mark appeared later, then that seems to imply that my soulmate is already somewhere out in the world, but hers deviated at some point after she did.”

Connor considered sharing Hank's story with his companions, but decided against it. After how reluctant the lieutenant had been to tell  _ him,  _ the android had a feeling Hank wouldn't appreciate him telling anyone else without asking first.

Even without the additional anecdote, however, Markus appeared less perturbed by his lack of a mark and managed a smile when Josh added, “Humans can be alive for years before their mark appears; give it time, I'm sure yours will show up eventually.”

“You're probably right,” the revolutionary agreed, expression shifting to something more thoughtful as their little group broke up and went to set their new plans in motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed! Make sure to leave a comment letting me know what your favorite part was! I love hearing that from my readers!  
> Follow me [**on tumblr**](https://joliemariella.tumblr.com/) for art and sneak peeks of future chapters!


	3. Gone Sour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor makes pancakes, gets a job, and has his heart broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone that's commented so far, you guys are awesome and I love you! Hope you enjoy this new chapter! Make sure to drop a review and let me know what your favorite part was, I love hearing that from you guys!

Two nights later, Connor returned to Hank's house shortly after nine and used the key the lieutenant had given him to let himself in. As he closed the door behind him, the android smiled then dropped to one knee when Sumo trotted up to greet him enthusiastically.

“Hello, Sumo, have you been a good boy?” he asked the saint bernard as he ruffled the dog's ears in the same manner he had observed Hank do on several occasions. The animal snuffled then tried to lick Connor's face, forcing the android to turn so Sumo's broad, flat tongue caught him across the cheek rather than the mouth. “I'll take that as a yes,” he said, then pushed back to his feet and looked around the living room as he shed his jacket and scarf.

The kitchen light was on, but the rest of the house was dark, so it took Connor a moment to register the fact that Hank was sprawled out on the sofa in a deep slumber. His car was in the driveway, so the android had known the lieutenant was home, but he hadn't expected him to be asleep so early in the evening.

Sumo lingering at his heels, Connor approached the sofa and leaned over the back of it to get a better look at Hank, who was still fully dressed, shoes and all, curled in on himself and totally dead to the world. His breaths came long and slow, and considering the last time Connor had found him passed out in his own home, the android did a brief scan of the man to be certain all was well.

Closer examination of the lieutenant's face revealed dark circles under his eyes, making him look even more haggard than usual, but the scan turned up no signs of ill health beyond pure exhaustion. There wasn’t even any alcohol in the man's system, so Connor let him be.

He had stayed with the other deviants the night before when riots downtown had resulted in the cab system being shut down again, and Connor found himself regretting it even more than he already had.

He'd been surprised when Hank had called him around midnight and given him an earful for not calling him first to let him know he was still in one piece. The lieutenant had sounded angry, so Connor had apologized for making him feel that way, at which point Hank informed him, at great length, that he wasn't  _ angry  _ he was worried 'that his stupid ass had wound up in a dumpster somewhere'.

It was a curious feeling, having someone worry after you. He hung up after assuring his partner that he would do better at keeping in touch, and Connor had been left to think on the conversation for some time in an attempt to understand the emotion Hank's concern inspired.

Eventually, he'd come to the conclusion that, while he didn't like upsetting the lieutenant, it made Connor...  _ happy  _ to know that the man cared enough about him to become upset when he didn't call.

Looking at Hank now as the man slept, Connor felt his own wave of concern. The lieutenant looked completely drained, no doubt due to the long hours he'd been keeping since the end of Markus' peaceful demonstration at the recycling center. Since then, the deviants had, for the most part, remained behind the barriers they had erected, but that didn't mean the rest of the city hadn't erupted into chaos. The DPD was struggling to keep up with the protests that, all too frequently, grew into outright riots all over the city.

Curiously, it was mostly humans participating, though androids that were working their way to Detroit from all over the country had become involved as well. Every time a pro-android rights march would start, a group of antis would show up to counter-protest, and vice versa. Sometimes things remained peaceful, other times fights would break out, followed by destruction that quickly devolved into looting, at which point riot control and the national guard would show up and try to put an end to the violence with mixed results.

Detroit was an old city and no stranger to protests and riots of all sorts, but even it was threatening to come apart at the seams under so much pressure from all sides.

As a lieutenant, Hank had been spending most of his time in the precinct helping the Captain organize and direct their precincts efforts to keep the city under control, as well as heading up the cooperation efforts with other precincts in the district. As a result, Hank had been pulling abnormally long shifts (as had everyone), and though the work was clearly a drain on the man, after seeing the chaos out on the streets, Connor was glad he was proving to be such a valuable administrative force. The more time he spent marshaling their resources and directing the actions of others, the less he spent out on the street where he might get hurt.

Connor re-examined the scan he'd taken of Hank's bio-signs and noted that his blood sugar was low. Chances were the man hadn't taken the time to eat on the way home, and clearly hadn't done any more than take off his coat and collapse onto the sofa once he’d arrived. He'd probably fallen asleep before he'd hit the cushions.

Realizing that this, at last, was some small thing he could do to repay the man in some small way for his kindness, Connor straightened and made his way into the kitchen. Before he made it all the way to the refrigerator, however, he noted that Sumo's food bowl was empty, and his water was just shy of that. The dog, who had continued to linger at his heels, whined and half-barked when he saw the android stop to consider his barren dishes.

“Quiet, Sumo, we don't want to wake Hank yet,” Connor chided him gently as he motioned for quiet. The saint bernard whined again, but refrained from barking, so the android grabbed the bag of dog food from the shelf and filled the bowl. Sumo shouldered him immediately out of the way in his eagerness to eat, nearly toppling Connor, who only patted the dog on the back then grabbed his water bowl and refilled that too.

Sumo cared for, the android turned to the refrigerator and opened it, then bent over in silent contemplation of its contents in the same manner humans had every day since the appliance was first invented.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much to be found within beyond a half-empty six pack of beer, a few eggs, a slightly sour half-gallon of milk, and miscellaneous condiments. Frowning slightly, Connor closed the door and began a search of the cabinets for anything edible he might prepare for Hank. He didn't technically have any cooking software installed, but with access to Hank's wifi, it was easy enough to access a database of simple recipes and run the data against the ingredients he found around the kitchen.

Eventually, the android came across an unopened box of pancake mix at the back of one cabinet. It was technically past its expiration date, but a scan from his sensors told Connor that it was still perfectly good, mostly thanks to its never having been opened. Realizing there was little other option as far as food went for the lieutenant, the android read the directions on the back of the box and set about preparing. The milk  _ was _ sour, but a quick internet search revealed that, thanks to the homogenization it went through, it was still perfectly safe to cook with.

He probably still wouldn't mention it to Hank, though.

While Connor worked on mixing the ingredients and heating the pan, Sumo finished eating wand wandered over to watch him work, no doubt hoping the android would drop something interesting.

As he poured batter into the pan, Connor glanced down into the dog's hopeful face and remarked, “I can tell you  _ think  _ you want this, but you don't.”

Sumo huffed and continued staring, so the android forced himself to ignore the animal as he turned back to the task at hand. Cooking, he decided, really wasn't that hard; though, admittedly, he was working out of a box. It did make him want to try something more complicated with a full assortment of ingredients, however. He was equipped with the most advanced learning software in the world, surely that would let him pick up proper cooking techniques without installing any extra programs...

Three pancakes were made in quick succession and stacked on a plate. As an afterthought, Connor took the last two eggs and scrambled them, deciding that Hank could likely use the protein to go with all the carbs. It wasn't the most nutritious meal, Connor thought as he set the plate on the table, but it was certainly better than the nothing at all the lieutenant had clearly been intending to have for dinner.

Pleased with his efforts, Connor gently nudged Sumo away from where he was eyeing the food and returned to the living room to wake Hank.

The man hadn't budged an inch since the android had looked at him last, and Connor almost felt guilty waking him. Knowing he'd be better off if he ate, however, he put the feeling aside and gently placed a hand on the lieutenant's shoulder.

“Hank,” he said quietly. The man sighed and shifted a little, but didn't wake, so Connor tried again, adding a gentle shake in hopes of stirring him without resorting to another slap. “Hank, wake up.”

It proved to be enough as the lieutenant opened his eyes, then gave a start when he found someone looming over him in the dark, silhouetted by the light from the kitchen. He relaxed almost immediately when he recognized the android and sagged back into the cushions again, voice thick with sleep as he asked, “What's going on?”

“I made you dinner,” Connor told him as he straightened. “You should eat and then get some sleep.”

“I was already sleeping,” Hank grumbled, though without any real heat. His nose had woken up by then and the smell of pancakes was making his stomach rumble meaningfully.

“You would sleep better in your b-” a sound from the kitchen drew Connor's attention and he immediately turned then hurried back to the table. “Sumo, no! You  _ had  _ your dinner.”

A rough huff of amusement escaped Hank and he forced himself up into a seated position with a muffled groan as the aches and pains that inevitably came with sleeping on the sofa made themselves known. Finally vertical, the lieutenant was able to see into the kitchen where Connor was tugging Sumo away from the table after the dog had apparently decided to have a go at his master’s ‘dinner’.

Dinner made by Connor… the thought filled the man with trepidation, though he wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was all the stories and videos he’d seen of people trying to get androids that hadn’t been installed with proper cooking software to cook for them on the internet. The results were generally inedible disasters, but as Hank pushed to his feet and ambled into the kitchen, he found a perfectly acceptable stack of pancakes and scrambled eggs waiting for him. It even looked like Connor had managed to intercept Sumo in time to keep him from slobbering on them. Granted, now that he was awake and fully upright, Hank felt so hungry he thought he might have eaten them regardless.

“Thanks, Connor,” he said as he took a seat while the android shooed his dog out of the kitchen. “Looks good,” Hank added, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice as he picked up the fork left out for him.

The tone didn’t go unnoticed by Connor, who explained, “I used the mix in the cabinet. The process was quite simple, so they should be fine despite my lack of food preparation protocols.”

Hank made a thoughtful sound, then glanced back towards the cabinet. “Was there any syrup in there,” he asked, unable to recall off the top of his head. How long had it been since he’d last had pancakes? Hell, how old was the mix Connor had used?

He glanced down at the pancakes at the thought, then shrugged it off, not particularly worried about it. He’d definitely eaten more questionable shit during some of his darker nights.

“Here,” Connor said and placed a half-empty bottle of syrup on the table, then took a seat as well.

“Thanks,” Hank said, then made use of it before cutting into the stack without hesitation and taking a large bite. In for a penny, in for a pound, he supposed. 

Luckily, the pancakes tasted good, despite the many factors stacked against them. Questionable ingredients, unschooled chef, interfering dog…

Hank took another bite and happened to glance up at Connor, who seemed to be watching him quite closely, making the lieutenant blink, then swallow and say, “They’re real good, son, thanks.”

And there it was again; ‘son’ had just slipped out without his thinking. It was becoming a habit around Connor, he was starting to notice, despite having barely known the android for a week. The way Connor’s expression immediately lit up at the small praise, however, immediately stifled Hank’s consternation and a small, embarrassed huff escaped the man as he turned his attention back to his food.

“I’m glad,” the android replied, the usual quirk of his lips that served as a smile growing into something wider that actually revealed his teeth at Hank’s comment. It made Connor…  _ happy,  _ knowing that he had helped the man in some small way. He knew that humans had a tradition of cooking for people important to them as a way to show they cared, but he’d never really understood it until now. Humans needed food to continue functioning, to sustain them, and providing that for the people in their life was one small way they could directly help someone important to them keep going. To give them the strength and energy to face the day.

It felt good, giving Hank what he needed to keep going, to be healthy. Connor had saved the man’s life before in a direct way- taking down a threat, saving him from a fall… and while those were  _ important,  _ somehow cooking for the lieutenant felt so much more personal.

It made the android think about the other people in his life that he’d come to care about in such a short window of time. Markus, Simon, North, and Josh… he wasn’t as close to them as he was with Hank, obviously, but they had become important to him. What could he do for them that would express as much, he wondered. Androids didn’t need to eat the way humans did, and while sharing blue blood in times of need would be an important gesture, it didn’t have quite the same impact as cooking in the day-to-day. Giving someone a bottle of thirium just didn’t have the same personal touch, or require the time and effort that communicated without words the depth of one person’s affection for another; the need to see them happy and healthy.

Connor pushed the thought to the back of his mind to percolate while he turned his active attention to the situation at hand. “How are things at the precinct,” he asked, expression solemn as he regarded the man across the table.

“Rough,” Hank admitted after swallowing a mouthful of eggs and sitting back in his chair a little with a heavy sigh. “Whole damn city’s about to go up like a powder keg on a short fuse.” Connor nodded thoughtfully, unsurprised at the news. “How are things down in the blue district? You guys have everything you need?”

Connor blinked. “Blue district?” he repeated, brow furrowing at the unfamiliar term as he did an internal search of his database and came up with nothing.

“Oh,” the lieutenant said, then looked vaguely embarrassed as he explained, “‘the blue district’ is how the national guard’s been referring to the area behind the barricade. Caught on down at the precinct since referring to it as the recycling center seemed...” the man’s words petered off and he resorted to a grimace and a shrug.

“Insensitive?” Connor suggested, mouth pulling up at the corner.

“Something like that.”

Connor considered the concept for a moment, then figured there were certainly worse things for the area to be called, so he let it go and answered Hank’s question. “We’re alright for the time being,” he explained. “There were plenty of clothes to be reclaimed from the… center, and the buildings in the vicinity were mostly abandoned, warehouses, so there’s been enough space for everyone to take shelter from the weather.”

He’d thought Hank would be glad to hear the news, but instead, the man was frowning as he stabbed absently at his last bit of pancake.

“Is something the matter?” the android asked, head tilting to one side as he considered the lieutenant.

Hank met his eyes, brow furrowed as he shrugged a little and said, “Nah. That’s just… a real low bar is all. Some clothes left behind by the dead and squatting in empty warehouses-” the man’s frown deepened. “You kids deserve better, is all.”

Connor’s brows lifted subtly and his hands closed instinctively into fists on the table before relaxing again. Hank thought they deserved  _ better _ …

“Thank you,” the android said quietly as he dropped his gaze to consider his fingers, which he interlaced before him in an attempt to mask the unexpected wave of emotion that swept through him.

Hank opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it. How did you even respond to that? So, instead, he nodded and shoved the last bite of pancakes into his mouth, then got up and dumped his plate into the sink. As he did, the lieutenant recalled something important he’d forgotten in his sleep deprived state earlier than evening.

“How do you feel about coming down to the precinct with me when I go back in a few hours?” Hank asked as he leaned back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest.

Connor looked up in surprise. “What for?” he asked, confused, but not immediately against it, which Hank took as a promising sign.

“Fowler wants you, if you’ll come,” the lieutenant explained. “We… well, the rate of android arrests is going up as more come in from outside the city, and he thinks that having an android to question them and take statements, especially the more unstable ones-”

“He thinks they’ll be more likely to talk to me than a human officer,” Connor speculated thoughtfully.

“Sure,” Hank agreed with a shrug. “But mostly because I told him about how you were able to keep that HK400 from self destructing when we interviewed it.” He was quiet a moment, frown deepening before continuing. “We had one yesterday… it wasn’t the officer’s fault. He was just treating him like would a human perp but-”

“But sometimes deviants are more fragile than humans when under stress.”

Another shrug. “You generally don’t have to worry about a guy’s head literally exploding in any case,” the lieutenant commented. “Anyways, with shit constantly on the verge of blow up all of the damn city, we just don’t have  _ time  _ to train officers in how to spot the signs of a deviant going critical mass. We can’t even stop the protests from turning into fucking riots half the time.”

The exhaustion had returned to Hank’s face and the line of his shoulders as he spoke, apparently only temporarily held at bay by what little sleep he’d gotten and the food Connor had provided. It’d take time for him to be back at full strength, but chances were he wouldn’t have the opportunity any time soon. The lieutenant pinched the bridge of his nose, brow furrowing at the thought of all the work he’d have to do when he got back to the precinct in a precious few hours.

“Of course I’ll come, Hank,” Connor said as he got to his feet and moved to join the man by the counter. Instinctively, he reached out and gripped the lieutenant’s shoulder and offered him a half-smile. “Now, go get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Hank dropped his hand from his face and shot the android a look of relief. “Thanks,” he said, and Connor allowed his hand to fall back to his side. The lieutenant pushed away from the counter with a sigh and then winced when he looked at the clock on the oven. “We’ll have to be out of here sooner than that, though; I’m supposed to report back by three.”

“I’ll set an alarm,” Connor said and gently pushed the man out of the kitchen and towards his bedroom.

“You gonna be alright out here?” Hank asked Connor as he glanced around the living room with a frown.

“I’ll be fine, the couch doesn’t make  _ me  _ sore,” the android remarked in a lightly teasing tone that made the lieutenant snort. “Good  _ night,  _ Hank.”

“Night, Connor.”

* * *

 

“So they want you to, what? Be the android liaison for the DPD?” Markus asked as he half-perched on the table in the meeting room down at the 'blue district', as the humans had apparently started calling it.

“The liaison for our particular precinct, at least,” Hank interrupted before Connor could reply, making the revolution leader turn to regard him with a hard to read look.

It was the lieutenant's first time being so close to the infamous android, and he had to admit that Markus had a certain...  _ presence  _ about him. A way of holding himself that commanded attention without coming off like he was posturing in some way. He was calm and confident as he spoke with Connor, though seemed to have a healthy skepticism towards Hank himself, which the man really couldn't fault him for.

Connor glanced back at Hank and nodded before turning to regard Markus again. “It doesn't seem like much, I know,” he admitted, “but I think this is important. It's inevitable that some of our people are going to wind up in police custody, surely it would be best if someone where there to act as intermediary for them.”

“Connor's right, Markus,” said a new voice that made Hank start and look to the right where another android had entered. “Besides which, he could not only be the DPD's liaison to androids, but an intermediary between the police and  _ us. _ ”

The strange android was a PL600, just like any of a hundred others Hank had ever seen, but for some reason, when their eyes met, the lieutenant's heart jumped alarmingly behind his ribs. He must have reacted outwardly in some way because the android gave him a pleasantly quizzical look, like a man trying to place where they had seen someone before but not quite being able to do so.

The moment was interrupted by a sigh from Markus. “Alright,” he said. “But keep in touch, and if it looks like something is going to happen, let us know.” The revolutionary's mismatched gaze found Hank's again, and from the subtle lift of his chin, the lieutenant thought he was daring him to object.

When Connor also looked his way, an unspoken question in his eyes, Hank just shot him a wry smile and a subtle shrug of his shoulders to indicate his own indifference on the matter. Some might have seen it as his bringing a mole into the DPD, but the lieutenant knew his captain well enough to be certain he'd thought of that much and had decided to ask the favor anyways. Sometimes you had to sacrifice one form of security to gain another in the long run.

The corner of Connor's mouth pulled up in a smile and he turned back to Markus, whose own expression had softened when Hank hadn't objected to the task he'd set the other android. “I will,” he told the revolutionary and accepted Markus' hand with a look of mild surprise when he offered it, then gave it a friendly shake and moved towards the door.

The lieutenant nodded to both androids then fell into step with Connor and followed him out the door and down the stairs before emerging in the chill November air outside. The sky was that particular flat shade of gray that always heralded snow, and Hank hoped for a foot of fresh powder. Maybe that would encourage the protesters to stay inside so he could finally get some damn sleep.

The threat of it didn't seem to be stopping the androids, though. Everyone they passed was working industriously to not only reinforce the barricade, but make the area behind it more comfortable for everyone living there.

As far as Hank knew, there was only one way in or out the territory they'd claimed, a gap in the growing wall that bisected the wide thoroughfare Markus had originally marched his people down towards the recycling center. It was fully enclosed now, an arch of carefully constructed jetsam, though it undeniably sturdy looking. Hank had to duck his head a little as he passed through it, already rummaging for the keys to his car, which he had left parked a little ways up the street.

There was an android standing guard as they exited, another PL600 that made the lieutenant think back to Markus' cohort who had joined them in the meeting room a few minutes previous. Unlike that android, however, the sight of this one didn't make Hank's heart jump or his pulse quicken strangely, even when their eyes met briefly, despite him having the exact same face.

They reached the car and as he rifled through his keys for the one he needed, Hank asked Connor, “That uh... that android back in the meeting room, who was he?”

Waiting on the passenger side for the lieutenant to unlock the car, Connor blinked at the impromptu question. “Simon,” he replied, head tilting to one side as he regarded Hank curiously. The man hadn't met his gaze since asking his question, despite having found the car key, and stood there in seeming contemplation of the slim piece of metal and plastic for a long moment. “Why?” the android prompted gently.

Hank started and glanced up at Connor, then finally unlocked the car and got in. “No reason.”

* * *

Chaos reigned in the precinct when Hank and Connor arrived, forcing them to practically shoulder their way through the crowded lobby just to make it back to the bullpen, which wasn't much better. Every desk was occupied by at least one officer, and some had doubled up as they worked to process what looked to be a veritable mob of civilians.

Startled by the crush, Connor had to shout when he asked Hank, “Has it been this bad since the demonstration?”

“Pretty much,” the lieutenant shouted back. “Comes and goes a bit. There must've been another riot,” he added, gaze following a group of officers in SWAT gear making their way to the door, clearly on a mission. He caught sight of Fowler in the crowd and waved a hand to get his attention. When he did, Hank pulled Connor around by the shoulder and pointed at him.

The look of relief that crossed the captain's face was plain even to Connor, who had really only met him the two times, and he didn't hesitate when Hank gently pushed him forward once Fowler waved them towards his office. He met them there and ushered them both inside before heading immediately to his desk.

The door swung closed behind them, and though they could still make out the noise of the bullpen, it was significantly dampened and allowed Connor to release the tension in his shoulders he hadn't even realized was there. Fowler ran his fingers over the touch screen set into his desk and the glass walls around them suddenly went opaque, affording them some sense of privacy. The captain dropped into his chair with a tremendous sigh, exhaustion clear in the lines of his face as Connor and Hank took the seats opposite.

“Did Hank already explain what we need?” Fowler asked Connor, apparently too tired for even an attempt at pleasantries as he got directly to the point.

“Yes,” the android replied. “You need someone capable of handling deviants during booking and questioning to prevent another case of self destruction.”

Fowler nodded. “That's the gist of it,” he said and pinched the bridge of his nose. “We can't have a repeat of yesterday; these riots are enough of a shit show without androids dying in police custody,” he continued as he tugged open the top drawer of his desk and rooted around in it before coming out with a spare detective's badge and sliding it towards Connor.

The android stared at it, uncomprehending for a moment before looking at Hank who only lifted a brow, smirking slightly as he jutted his chin towards the badge in silent indication that he should take it. Finally, Connor did, long fingers folding around the piece of metal as he lifted it, then brought it close for a better look, though he knew full well what a detective's badge looked like already.

“We'll handle all the paperwork bullshit later,” Fowler explained as Connor glanced up at him, dark eyes wide at the enormity of the situation. “We don't even have a protocol for hiring androids right now, so we'll just... leave that up to HR to deal with,” the captain said as he pushed reluctantly back to his feet once more. “In the meantime, you stick around the precinct and make sure no one else's head explodes. You take lead on questioning any androids. I've already sent a memo around, but if anyone gives you any shit tell them they can talk to me,” he said and showed them to the door before adding under his breath, “not that they're gonna like what I have to say, but what the fuck else is new.”

“I- thank you, Captain,” Connor managed to say even as Fowler practically shoved him and Hank out the door.

The captain gave him a wry look and said, “I wouldn't if I were you; this isn't going to be a walk in the park.”

The android's mouth quirked at the corners and he remarked, “I've never actually  _ been  _ to a park, sir.”

Fowler only snorted, then let the door swing shut behind them, leaving Connor and Hank temporarily alone at the top of the stairs to the captain's office. The android looked down at his new badge again and ran the pad of his thumb over its cool surface as Hank bumped him lightly with his shoulder.

“Congrats,” he said with a lopsided smile when Connor looked up at him. “Now get to work.”

A small laugh escaped the android as Hank started down the steps and he asked, “Where are you going?”

The man glanced back over his shoulder at him and grimaced as he answered, “I've got...  _ lieutenant  _ things to do. Call me if you need me, otherwise, come find me around noon.”

Connor nodded and let Hank go, watching as he disappeared into the crowd.

Feeling a little at sea in the face of so many sudden changes, the android lingered in front of the captains door a moment longer before affixing his new badge to his belt and pulling himself together. Before he even reached the bottom of the stairs, a commotion across the room drew his attention, and seeing an android at its center, Connor made an immediate beeline towards it.

Running on four cups of coffee and a two hour nap he’d snatched in the back of his car, the sudden spike in noise didn’t initially register with Gavin. When it did, though, he immediately jumped up from his desk and shoved his way through the crowd to where a uniformed officer was trying and failing restrain a handcuffed android.

“Hey!” he barked as he broke through the crowd and grabbed the android’s shirt just as it writhed free of the officer’s grip. Gavin dragged it in close enough to see its eyes go wide in shock and fear, the LED at it’s temple bright red, then shoved it away hard enough that it crashed against a filing cabinet. “Calm the fuck down,” he snarled, his usual limited supply of patience long since gone in the face of sleep deprivation and mounting stress.

The android straightened, eyes flickering around the crowded bullpen wildly, clearly looking for an escape. Just as it started to move, though, the other officer lunged and grabbed at it and Gavin jumped forward to do the same.

Suddenly, though, there was a body between him and his target and Gavin tried to stop, but exhaustion had slowed his reflexes, four cups of coffee or no, and he failed utterly in the attempt. 

A hand was thrown out between them, planted just left of center against the detective’s chest, right over his heart, to stop him dead in his tracks with a grunt as the air was driven from his lungs by the impact. A second later, before he even had a chance to take a breath, the world felt as though it tilted wildly on its axis, then fell away entirely.

In its stead came a sudden, inexplicable joy that seemed to emanate from deep within him; beyond his heart, deeper than his marrow… like every piece of him down to his very soul sang out together in one all encompassing voice- 

‘ _ Him! _ ’ 

It echoed through him with an almost physical force that made Gavin reach out blindly for support before he could fall over, and somewhere beyond him, his soulmate sucked in a ragged gasp as his hand latched onto his arm with a vice-like grip. The sound gave the detective the strength to fight through the shock of the newly formed connection and open his eyes, and though he felt like it had taken an eternity, he found that only a few seconds had passed since his soulmate first touched him.

Gavin’s eyes fluttered opened; dazed and still gripping tight to his newly claimed other half as he was, they took a beat to focus on the man in front of him. When they finally did he was met by the sight of a familiar pair of brown eyes currently held wide in shock, full lips half-parted, rapidly blinking LED a brilliant shade of crimson that showed no signs of slowing any time soon.

The tin-can. Connor. His hand was still pressed to Gavin’s chest, and the detective was still gripping his arm tight for support, though the moment he recognized the android he snatched it away as if he’d been burned. Connor’s hand dropped from his chest and the joy that had risen up him soured, turning bitter and resentful as certain knowledge that the one thing he’d longed for more than anything in his life had been twisted, corrupted.

Of course it had been. How could he have possibly expected anything else?

Connor reached for him a second time, the movement careful, hesitant even, but Gavin stepped backwards before he could touch him again, features contorting into a wounded snarl as he did.

“ _ Don’t you fucking touch me _ ,” he snapped, then spun on heel and shouldered his way through the crowd to get away from his… from the  _ android.  _ He needed to be somewhere else,  _ anywhere else.  _ He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t-

Left standing alone, bewildered, and shell-shocked, Connor stared after Gavin Reed as he fled, then dropped his gaze to his right hand as if seeing it for the first time. The whole event had taken only a few seconds, and no one around them seemed to have even registered that something more than a brief altercation between man and android had occurred.

Behind him, the uniformed officer was pulling the handcuffed android to his feet and Connor knew he should accompany him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do more than drop backwards to lean heavily against the nearest desk as his system tried to make sense of what had just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That bit about being able to cook with sour milk is true, btw, it's totally safe!  
> I promise this all has a happy ending XD  
> Thanks for reading and make sure to drop a comment and let me know what your favorite part was, I love hearing that from you guys!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed! Make sure to leave a comment letting me know what your favorite part was! I love hearing that from my readers!  
> Follow me [**on tumblr**](https://joliemariella.tumblr.com/) for art and sneak peeks of future chapters!


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